


safe & sound

by jessethejoyful



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, M/M, and uh... yeah so suffer here y'all, it's an alternate to chapter 71 where the humdrum pulls simon outside and drains him instead of baz, oh my god y'all this is pure unadulterated angst and i am so fucking sorry, the ending is vague for a reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15572121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessethejoyful/pseuds/jessethejoyful
Summary: Alternate version of chapter 71 - the Humdrum gives Simon his nothing, and Simon is something new entirely.





	safe & sound

**Author's Note:**

> god y'all I'm not even sorry about this wrote it in like half an hour lehgo

**BAZ**

When I wake, it’s like I can’t get a proper breath.

I sit up wildly, the sheets dropping off me, and I can tell immediately that Simon is gone. His place beside me has gone cold and I’m surrounded by that dry, sucking feeling that we all know so well at this point.

The Insidious Humdrum. (I’d like to punch whoever the fuck decided to name him that.)

My feet hit the floor and I’m tripping all over myself like a newborn colt, but I manage to slide into a pair of slippers and my dressing gown before I barrel out the door, wand in hand. How the rest of my family is still asleep with this feeling in the air, I don’t know, but I don’t have time to rouse them. I’m out the front door and racing into the snow that’s been piling up overnight, the front walk covered in a fresh layer of powder. It soaks into my trousers, my shoes, my robe, but I keep running.

“Simon?” I call into the trees, as I feel that sucking growing more intense, almost unbearable. I see a flare far out among the canopy, and even though it’s quickly enveloped by the darkness, I know it’s Simon. I can feel his magic, smoky and almost painful to me tonight, leaking out from that direction. My legs are carrying me fast, faster than I’d really realized I could move, fueled by the fear gripping my chest. I can tell, I can just tell, that something is so terribly wrong. More than just the Humdrum coming to my home.

I know it better than I know myself; Simon’s in terrible danger.

Nearing the spot where I saw the flare, I slow down, dragging one hand across the trees I pass, my wand in the other. “Simon?” I try calling him again.

Even with my heightened hearing, straining to make anything out in the silence of the night, I don’t hear him until he drops down behind me with a thump. I whip around, and all my alarms blare in my head.

It’s Simon, I think, but everything is wrong. His magic is rolling off of him in waves, it’s making my head hurt and my eyes stream, and he’s changed. Transformed. Massive red wings have unfurled from his shoulder blades, spreading out behind him and filling the small clearing we’re in. He’s hunched over like he’s in pain, his breath coming out heavy and loud. A tail coils out from behind him, thick and red and covered in wicked spikes.

He lumbers toward me, and I nearly trip in my haste to back away.

“Simon,” I breathe, my voice barely audible, so I try again. “Simon!” He stops, his head tilting like a dog listening to a high-pitched whistle. The tail whips around, and it’s like the magic coming from him changes. Lightens, only for a moment.

I see movement in the branches over his head, and while I’m hesitant to look away, I have to know if we’re not alone. And I’m floored for a second time, because crouching on the lowermost branch is Simon, again. But not _my_ Simon - it’s Simon like the day I first met him, thin and seedy, in wrecked trousers and clutching that stupid red ball he once lobbed at my head. He’s watching us, the ugliest smile on his face, and I realize he’s the source of the dryness.

The Chosen One is also the greatest threat to magic?

Of course he is.

“Brilliant,” the Humdrum says, dropping from the tree and landing lightly between us. He stares up at Simon, and looks over at me like we’re sharing in an excellent joke. “This is wild. He’s still so full.”

“What did you do to him?” I howl, pointing my wand at this second wrong version of Simon. The child cackles, throwing his head back, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard such an awful sound come from my Simon.

“I gave him a bit of it. And then he filled right back up. So I gave him a bit more, and a bit more… and he filled up, more and more. Like a cup that refills itself. Like in Harry Potter.”

“Gave him a bit of _what_?” I hiss, taking a step toward them.

The child shrugs. It’s so like Simon that I have to stop myself from smacking him. “Some of my nothing. But he doesn’t stay nothing. He just takes more. And then he did this -” he gestures at this beastly Simon, “and I think it’s absolutely brilliant.”

I step a little closer. My Simon’s face is twisted, his teeth bared in a permanent snarl, and his pupils have contracted completely into themselves, so his irises are just a pool of blue. I can see the magic dancing across his the top of his skin, and spiraling wildly underneath. Like he has fire in his veins instead of blood.

“Simon,” I try again, holding out my hand hesitantly. The Humdrum is laughing again, but I ignore him, my eyes trained on my Simon. His head twitches again, like he’s listening closely, and I wonder how much he recognizes me.

And then he throws back his head and a gut-wrenching bellow tears from his mouth, and I scramble back just in time to avoid his sword, swinging in an arc in front of him as it materializes in his hand. It’s bigger than I’ve ever seen it, dripping red flames, and it catches the trees around us on fire.

The blaze surrounds us in an instant, and I’m drenched in sweat. “Simon!” I shriek his name again, not caring how the fear rips through my voice. I point my wand at him and choke out an **_“As you were!”_ ** but it’s weak and he absorbs it, because right now he _is_ magic, every ounce of it around us being pulled into him. He drops down on all fours, his back arched and his form filling my vision, crawling toward me like something out of a horror film. All crooked movements and shuddering breaths.

I can’t do anything else, not with the Humdrum watching us gleefully, making everything so much worse.

I turn and run.

There’s another screeching roar behind me, and I can hear trees breaking and falling, roots ripping from the ground and being launched in my direction. Somehow I dodge them, somehow I don’t fall flat on my face, but a glance behind me is all I need to know I can’t outrun him. Simon is half-flying, half-racing after me, bringing the tower of flames with him.

The trees are getting thicker, I’m leading him away from the house, and it’s getting harder for me to go quickly. And he’s gaining on me.

So I take the only control I have left in this situation, and I stop. I turn to face him, and he bares down on me in seconds. But he stops too, coming to a halt just before we collide, and pushes back up on his two feet. He’s looming over me, several feet taller than usual, his shoulders and chest heaving and glowing with a blood red aura. The flames around him have died, but his hand still grips his sword.

“Simon,” I say, amazed my voice doesn’t shake, lifting my hand to him again. There’s the head tilt as he stares down at me, even though I’m not certain he sees me. “Simon. You don’t want to hurt me. You don’t. You told me you don’t want to fight. We don’t have to.”

A pitiful whine comes from the back of Simon’s throat, and he shrinks away from my hand. The magic continues to pour out of him, but I’m not absorbing it from him this time. The tap is off, or maybe it’s pouring out acid instead of power, because my skin feels prickly and raw from it.

“Let’s go back, Simon,” I try, stepping toward him. His head jerks up, his eyes on me, and I keep talking. “Or better yet, let’s run. Just you and me. We’ll go to America, somewhere stupid remote, and build a shack for us to live in. We’ll eat sandwiches and yell at each other, and it’ll be just like normal. How’s that sound?”

There’s a sound like thunder, ripping through the air, and that’s when Simon’s sword plants itself in my gut.

 

**SIMON**

Time stops.

I don’t know if it actually does, but with the power swirling around in me right now, I think I could manage it. But it’s like it does, and I watch as though I’m from a distance, Baz dropping to the ground before me. Shock is splashed across his face, followed quickly by horrible agony.

Another scream flows from me, and I’m fighting the void that I’ve become, and the power slowly flees. Disappears, maybe back into the magical atmosphere or into nothing again. Wherever it goes when I’m through with it. And I think I’m shrinking - I focus on the wings, and the tail, and I feel them disappear back into me.

It’s all so fast, and I manage to catch Baz before he hits the ground. My sword is gone too, but the wound is there, and I don’t know how he’s bleeding but he is. Hot blood soaks both of us, sizzling where it pours into the snow on the ground.

“Baz,” I sob out, a bloody hand at his face. “Baz, hold on, hold on -”

“Simon,” he gasps, his eyes glassy as they meet mine. “You’re - you again.”

“Don’t talk,” I say raggedly, choking with sobs, my hand trying to cover the gash that stretches across his stomach. “You’re gonna make it worse, shut up for once -”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is barely a breath, and I can hardly see him through the tears in my eyes, and I hunch over him.

“Shut up, you’re going to be fine,” I growl, like that’ll fix this mess, and I whip my head around like there’s someone nearby that can help. But there’s no one. It’s just us. “Baz, please, don’t - don’t go where I can’t follow. Not again. I can’t _do_ anything without you.”

He starts to laugh, but it hurts him too much, and I hear a sickening sound as the wound gurgles. “I know you can’t. My Chosen One. You’re still the hero of this story.”

I hate him, I hate that he sounds like he’s trying to say goodbye to me.

“Fuck you,” I whisper, before dropping my head and pressing my cracked, dry lips to his. And I focus on pouring all of my magic into him, every bit that I can summon from the air around us. I feel the circuit connect, and I don’t think I could stop even if I tried. My own soreness disappears, our lips stay joined, and I can actually feel his skin knitting together beneath my hands.

It takes a while for the flow to stop, but finally it does. I sit up, slowly, my head spinning, and look down at Baz.

The wound is gone. His eyes are closed.


End file.
